


By the House Rules

by Artemis1000



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Banter, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Mission Fic, Pining, Robot/Human Relationships, Treat, Undercover as a Couple
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-19
Updated: 2018-02-19
Packaged: 2019-03-15 12:33:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13613481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Artemis1000/pseuds/Artemis1000
Summary: An undercover assignment requires Cassian and K-2 to pose as a couple.Or: that one time K-2SO looked very dashing wearing a bow tie.





	By the House Rules

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hearteating](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hearteating/gifts).



> I couldn't resist a fake dating prompt, hope you enjoy!

“This is a terrible idea,” Cassian had told General Draven as soon as he got the assignment.

The General’s glib reply of, “consider it a challenge,” had somehow done absolutely nothing to make Cassian feel any better about the mission or his chances of success – at challenging himself or otherwise.

Two days later, walking into Vortex’s fanciest casino dressed to the nines with K-2SO at his side, Cassian felt distinctly vindicated by the sense of doom gripping him.

“Has anybody told you this is a terrible idea?” K-2 asked.

He peered up at the droid, who looked lovelier than he ever had before. Every battle blemish on K-2SO’s frame had been hidden under copious amounts of fresh paint and polish, even the six-spoked Imperial crest on his shoulders had been overpainted with the Black Sun emblem. He bore half-heartedly concealed blaster rifles attached to his forearms and a spare blaster on a thigh holster. In short, he would have been the very picture of gorgeous droid death if it hadn’t been for the black bow tie neatly wrapped around his thin neck.

“You have. Nine times, not counting this one.”

K-2 tilted his head in acknowledgment. “The bowtie is very uncomfortable and frankly, it looks ridiculous on me.”

“No. You’re feeling ridiculous. But you look.” Cassian sucked on his bottom lip, front teeth digging in painfully. “You look befitting your status,” he finished weakly.

“And ridiculous.”

Cassian shot him a disgruntled look. “I could have put you into a tux to go with the bow tie, if that makes you feel better.”

He could feel the eyes of the crowd on them, wealthy civilians, Imperial elites and casino security alike zeroing in on them, while security holocams turned their way. It felt like ants crawling over Cassian’s skin, he had to remind himself sternly that they were here to be seen.

People stepped aside to make way for them. Cassian would have liked to think the confidence he moved with played just as much of a part in this as K-2SO’s blasters and the symbol of the crime syndicate he bore, but deep down he knew it had a lot more to do with the latter than with his strutting gait.

Due to its proximity to Ord Mantell, a Black Sun stronghold ever since the Clone Wars, their symbol carried enough weight with Vortex’s underworld to cause a stir, while the chance of running into actual Black Sun members was low. Or so the mission files had claimed and Cassian dearly hoped they were right.

K-2SO was still a miserable liar, but he also happened to be their only KX security droid.

Like it or not, while very few people outside the organization knew exactly what feared Black Sun lieutenant Tiru Lassic looked like beyond blurry, outdated security cam holos, everybody who had heard the name at least once knew that he had a KX for his very _personal_ protector.

Thus, here they were, Cassian in a suit that cost Vortex’s average annual salary, K-2 polished to a high sheen.

Somehow he had always pictured his first date with K-2SO differently.

They went to one of the game tables, Cassian not even deigning to acknowledge the people leaving to make room for them.

He stood close to K-2, far closer than he normally would. He leaned in a little closer yet, placing a hand on the small of K-2’s back. “You’ll have to sit this one out, droids aren’t allowed to play,” Cassian told him in a low murmur perfectly pitched to carry.

If real Tiru Lassic wanted his droid to play he would be allowed to play. Cassian had no intention to challenge the house rules, they had barely managed to procure enough funds for one player.

Cassian’s fingers dug a little harder into K-2’s back plate as he braced himself for his response. He was, after all, a terrible liar.

The lenses in K-2’s photoreceptors shifted. “I have no interest in playing,” he declared archly. “Your games are boring and predictable.”

Cassian’s hold on his back relaxed as the corners of his mouth curled upwards. Or maybe K-2 could just be his usual grumpy self, no lies required. He returned his attention to the game. They weren’t here to make money but he couldn’t afford to run out of funds before he’d caught the owner’s attention.

 

Two hours later, Cassian watched the croupier collect the last of his chips and tried his hardest not to look as disheartened as he felt.

They were still being watched and at their last table at least two other gamblers had been stooges, but neither K-2 nor him had yet caught a glimpse of Nard Rustmund, casino owner and unwitting informant-to-be for the Rebel Alliance. If some people would rather be selling out their illustrious patrons to criminals than to rebels, who was Cassian to deny them their wish. If only the man would make up his mind.

He heaved a heavy sigh as he turned to K-2. “You were right. I’m terrible at this game.” He slipped from his chair, moving as if he wished to buy more chips. “What do you say to one more round?”

K-2 hesitated visibly before saying, “are you sure you want to do that?”

It must have taken him great pains to word it neutrally when he had certainly wanted to remind Cassian that they had run out of stolen funds.

Cassian let his gaze wander through the casino. The patrons had returned to their own entertainment but security was still observing them.

Somewhere on a floor above or below them, Rustmund would be watching them right now on the security cams, sound judgment fighting a losing battle against his own greed. To play nice with Tiru Lassic could elevate him from the proprietor of a casino to someone who rubbed shoulders with the sector’s criminal elite, provided the man in his casino was actually Tiru Lassic.

Cassian sized up K-2, gleaming chassis and bright photoreceptors and that ridiculous bow tie. “Or we could move to the bar and make this a _proper_ date.”

K-2 looked exactly like a droid who felt like he was drowning, he simply had to hope that nobody else could read his body language well enough to tell. “You did not say we would be going on a date.” Then, after a moment, he added, “I’m not prepared for a date.”

Because he didn’t think they would need to. Because he had overestimated Rustmund’s vanity and underestimated his healthy disbelief of too much good fortune falling into his lap. Because he had thought that if he ever worked up the nerve to ask K-2 out, it would be for real and not part of some ridiculous scheme which saw him wearing a bowtie.

Cassian cradled K-2’s right hand between his own. This, at least, was real, he reminded himself, and maybe he could provide him with confidence even if he didn’t feel much himself. “We could have a drink. We could dance.” He squeezed K-2’s fingers and tried to somehow convey to him _it will be okay_ and _I won’t let you fail_ and maybe, hopefully, even _trust me_.

K-2 remained still for very long, endless moments in which Cassian could only wonder if he would panic and start blabbering, if he would give the entire game away. “I would like to dance with you,” K-2 said finally, his voice strangely hushed and not at all panicky like it always was when he tried to fabricate a lie.

Cassian could feel his own heart beat fast and hard in his suddenly too tight chest. His fingertips trailed absent-mindedly over the inside of K-2’s palm. “I would like that.”

The droid straightened at his side. “Do you even know how to dance?”

Cassian hesitated. Would Lassic know how to dance? This wasn’t something he had researched, or even have known where or how to start researching. On the bright side, if he didn’t have a clue, it was very unlikely Rustmund would know the answer.

Which left him only to battle his own deficiencies. How lovely. He peered up into K-2’s eyes, lips pressed together again. “I think we could try.”

Cassian led the way to the bar area, determined to outrun his own rapidly flushing cheeks. Not because he was mortified, of course, but solely because Lassic had no reason to be flustered by the mere prospect of dancing. His concern was still the mission, only the mission.

It was a nice bar, nothing like the seedy cantinas Cassian usually met his contacts. Everything was paneled with expensive wood polished to a high sheen, a jizz band was playing for just a handful of loitering patrons. The most activity in the bar area came from servers passing by to deliver drinks to the gamblers in the casino area.

Getting himself a drink was the first thing Cassian did all evening which wouldn’t bankrupt a regular person. Maybe they would be able to buy enough time for Rustmund to make his choice.

If this were a real date Cassian would have chosen one of the booths, strategically arranged for maximum privacy. It wasn’t, though, he had to be a visible temptation, so he sat on a bar stool and curled his fingers around K-2’s wrist, tugging him close.

“Stay.”

K-2 did stay, placing himself right next to Cassian. He stood there awkwardly, while Cassian sat awkwardly.

So they were now on a proper date. So far, so good.

His fingers tightened on the delicate tiny glass. What did he know about proper dating etiquette anyway? Candlelight dinners and flowers were involved, but they were in a bar and mobsters probably didn’t give flowers to their enforcers slash murderbot lovers.

K-2 reached for him suddenly, his fingertips running over Cassian’s painstakingly gelled and styled hair. “You look silly.”

His breath hitched in his throat. K-2 and he were tactile enough but it felt different now. Even as a pretense, it was different. “You don’t like it?” he asked quietly.

“I like your normal hair better.”

Cassian’s fingers didn’t shake as he reached out to trail them over K-2’s gleaming chest plate but he sure felt a little numb from nerves. “I like your normal looks better, too.” He shifted his hand to K-2’s forearm, fingers curling around the blaster rifle attachment, and added for the benefit of their eavesdroppers, “at least you didn’t lose these.”

He could read the panic in K-2’s body language again as the droid realized he was expected to improvise. “I don’t have…”

Cassian placed his forefinger over K-2’s vocoder. It stunned the droid enough to fall blessedly silent. “Hush.” Maybe, maybe he just needed to take charge here. That was something Lassic would do, right? “I want you to take me dancing now.”

K-2’s photoreceptors dimmed. “I understand.” He did not sound like he understood.

Cassian’s confidence wilted. Okay. Maybe his taking charge had room for improvement. His fingers curled around K-2’s wrist again. “Forget everybody else,” he said quietly. “They don’t matter. It’s just us.”

K-2 indignantly vented a puff of hot air. “If they didn’t matter I would not have to be here wearing a ridiculous bowtie.”

Cassian didn’t even try to stifle his grin. “Touché. But. You and me. A dance.”

He didn’t even know how to dance with K-2, he was so much taller than Cassian that they would be bound to make for a comical sight. But it would mean he could be close to him, he could touch him and there were fewer places to hide listening equipment on the dance floor.

A Vors in a croupier’s uniform approached them hesitantly, his wings were fluttering anxiously. “Sir? Excuse me, sir?”

Finally!

Cassian shot him a withering glare. “Can’t you see we are busy?”

The henchman tucked his wings close to his body. “Sir, Mister Rustmund is wondering if you would prefer the privacy of the VIP area.” The Vors' gaze shifted to K-2. “Your droid is invited as well.”

Cassian let his gaze wander back to the small dance floor and the band, which had just started a new song. He grunted and went back to sipping on his drink, the croupier as good as forgotten. “What do you say? Maybe the music is better back there.”

“That is very unlikely,” K-2 said. Maybe it was in all Cassian’s mind, but he liked to think that K-2 sounded as disappointed as he felt that they would never have their dance.

He put down his empty glass and stood up, his fingers brushing against K-2’s in a gesture he could only hope would reassure him.

If it went well K-2 would go ignored, a scenery piece while Rustmund engaged only Cassian. If Rustmund happened to have better manners than most people… Well, they would just have to hope he didn’t.

As they followed the Vors, K-2 nudged Cassian to catch his attention. He had fallen back into his natural slouch already, he was truly a terrible actor. He ducked his head slightly, trying to get a little more on eye level with Cassian. It would have been sweet, if he weren’t supposed to play the part of the menacing enforcer first, doting lover second.

With his memories of the dance they’d almost had still at the forefront of his mind, Cassian couldn’t find it within him to be annoyed.

“I would have liked to dance with you,” K-2 said quietly.

Cassian’s heart stuttered a little. He lowered his gaze bashfully, for a single moment not giving a damn about keeping up the façade. “I…” He swallowed hard. His throat felt tight. “I would like that.” Cassian let a few thudding heartbeats pass. “Next time?”

K-2’s head ducked a little lower yet. “I would like that, too.”

Cassian opened his mouth but he never got the chance to figure out what he wanted to say, for the Vors led them into a room even more lavishly decorated than the bar, saying, “here you are, sirs. Mister Rustmund is awaiting you.”

It felt like a bucket of ice water.

Right. The mission.

He shoved all thoughts of Cassian and K-2SO away and slipped back into Tiru Lassic’s far more confident skin. Cassian stepped forward and K-2 fell behind as he approached the haggard casino owner, who blessedly had eyes only for him.

“Mister Rustmund. I don’t believe we have met.”

Tonight they had to play their roles. He would just have to make sure the next time he took K-2 on a date, there would be no more need for pretenses.


End file.
